#mapletea

[amoxesyoew]

Oh...

[rapturebin]

a brother problem

[hello-there]

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[zours025]

something something the crown

[diatomaceous-worth]

Sometimes I think about mapletea

[tiger-willow]

I can tell that MapleTea is gonna be cooking this week after the lore :)

(To those who don’t know what I’m talking about: MapleTea is an artist and animatic maker in both Phil’s and the qsmp community and has even had a lot of her art and animatics in the museum and all three movie nights, I’m counting the Valentine’s Day event as a movie night.)

[something-maple]

[hello-there]

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[cheesetalia]

teach my heart to bend instead of breaking

For @hetalia-rarepairweek's Day 1: History & Mythology England/Canada | 1.1k words | warnings: none for this installment, eventual cheating and dubcon.

Summary:

Matthew Williams is an unusual student, a diamond shining brightly amid a sea of clods. That’s how Arthur Kirkland, his history professor sees him. Arthur’s only intention in taking Matthew under his wing is to nurture a rare talent, but it’s possible to become too close to a student. Already on thin ice with his wife and the university due to his prickly personality, getting entangled with Matthew might be what finally deals the deathblow to his marriage—and worse, his career.

Can be read on the Archive of Our Own or underneath the Readmore:

Most of the students in Professor Kirkland’s History 101 class had tuned out his snippy British voice that went on and on about historical happenings they did not care about in the slightest. Those who were paying any attention at all glared at his turned back.

Matthew however, sitting in the front row leaning forward with his chin resting on his hand, staring raptly as Professor Kirkland scrawled dates and names on the board, was an exception. He found the grumpy little man absolutely enchanting. Other students might bitch about the chalkboard, claiming the dust was nasty and that it was an antique not suited for a modern classroom, but Matthew thought it was an adorable little quirk. This was a history class after all, so shouldn't they benefit from a few antiquarian touches?

It wasn’t just the oddities like the chalkboard that had the other students pissed off though. No, it was because despite this being an intro history class (intended as a broad, shallow, and above all <i>easy</i> survey of history appropriate for non-majors) the coursework was as difficult and ruthlessly graded as most of the senior level history classes. The only one more difficult was the senior thesis class for history majors.

Pity the student who dawdled in signing up for courses and got stuck in Arthur Kirkland’s history class!

Matthew hadn’t bothered to try and dodge certain professors who were rumored to be hardasses. He’d been an honors student in high school but had often been bored and underwhelmed by the classwork. Now, in his very first semester of college he was finally being challenged. Professor Kirkland didn’t let them slack or skate by and Matthew appreciated that. It felt good to be treated like an adult, an equal, instead of having a teacher go easy on them because “they’re just kids”.

If the students had no love or respect for Professor Kirkland, the feeling was mutual. Although Arthur never said it, he clearly communicated with his venomous glares and voice dripping with scorn, exactly what he thought of the imbeciles he had to teach. Served them right in Matthew’s opinion; this wasn’t high school and they shouldn’t be clowning about or neglecting their coursework. This was college; they should take it <i>seriously</i>.

In a mirror of Matthew's attitude, Arthur saw Matthew as a rare exception in a classroom full of brainless teenagers. The slim blonde teen that always sat in the first row might be meek and quiet but Arthur could tell from his essays and tests that he paid attention and actually put the work in to do the required reading. Arthur was never big on so-called classroom participation from students anyway; there was no benefit in letting them show off their ignorance, flaunt their juvenile and asinine “opinions”.

Many professors warmly advertised their office hours and invited students to drop-in for anything, even just a chat. Arthur didn’t.

But when Matthew finally worked up the courage to linger in the room after the class was dismissed, hovering next to Arthur’s desk, Arthur didn’t send him packing. It wasn’t out of some change of heart (the administration was constantly badgering him to be nicer to the students, but Arthur had taught at this particular institution for over fifteen years now, and there was no way he was going to kiss the idiot students’ arses just because everyone else was getting soft in this modern age). It was because Arthur thought there was a chance—however slim—that Matthew might not be a complete waste of his time.

Matthew, with his big awe-filled violet eyes, graceful manners, always surrounded by the soft scent of pinewood and maple sugar, was a lot easier to endure standing near than most of the stinking sweaty hungover students that Arthur dealt with. Maybe, Arthur thought, if most of his students were as pleasant as Matthew it wouldn’t be so difficult to smile at them. He didn’t have to make an effort with Matthew; talking with him, the corners of his mouth naturally lifted up as he listened to Matthew’s shy questioning about the end of term paper Arthur had assigned them.

He answered Matthew’s questions and even voluntarily pointed him towards some good sources for the subject they’d be writing about. Arthur lost track of time chatting with the young man about what they’d covered in class so far, only realizing he had to be at home for dinner in twenty minutes because his smartwatch went off. (He despised it; but it was a gift from Gilberte so he wore it anyway, while never passing up a chance to bitch about it to her.)

“Well I must be going now. If you have any other questions you can speak with me after next class.” Arthur said.

It was a high honor; he’d never yet in all his years implied to a student that any imposition on his time would be welcome.

“Thank you for your time Professor, I’ll see you next time.” Matthew said, giving a shy little wave as he headed for the door.

Despite the fact that he really needed to get going if he was to make it home in time for Gilberte to not throw a bitchfit, Arthur didn’t grab his things and make to leave. He felt strangely off. What was causing it? The conversation with Matthew, if an unusual occurrence, was not about anything out of the ordinary for a history professor and the student (even if it was highly unusual for <i>Arthur</i> and a student).

It took Arthur a moment to realize what it was. His teeth weren’t gritted tightly in his mouth. His fingernails weren't digging into the flesh of his palms. The overwhelming urge to bite someone or kick them out a window was absent... Instead of feeling aggravated, like conversations with people usually left him, Arthur felt refreshed. Invigorated. There was still a little lingering on his face and he didn't know why.

Arthur went hunting through his desk for the little index card he made all the students fill out at the beginning of term (he never paid any mind to them; it was purely a farce meant to appease the administration by showing he was making an effort to “connect with” the students.)

There, at the very back he found it—Williams, Matthew.

A freshman from Canada, whose hobbies included playing hockey and cooking. That explained his tight, fit body at least.

And there at the bottom–major: undeclared. Maybe Arthur could have a talk with the boy about his aptitude for the humanities. He was clearly a cut above the usual moronic students Arthur was surrounded by. The history department could only be enlivened by having an undergrad student who actually had a brain.

Not to mention, this would put Matthew in more of Arthur's classes, since the college only required this one history class as part of the general education requirements.

Yes, he would have to talk to Matthew about it right away.

[bunny-bun-draws]

Ship that you find cute but don’t ship: ✌

As many of you all know, back in the day my OTP was MapleTea (Canada x England)... don't ship them anymore, but I can't say that they aren't a cute ship and had a positive impact on my art life 💕

[mysticaidenanimatez]

Maple tea belongs to, well, @ask-mapletea ! ^^

I drew this because I was bored.

[justvibingwhilecrying]

[amoxesyoew]

"hehe"

[fumblingmusings]

I think I saw you reblog some mapletea once which when compared to UsUk I always think its such an interesting ship cause out of the brothers I think Matt is the one who should be more likely to wanna fuck Arthur/Alice. Like all that history, all that friendship, even if you're looking past colonial history (which is hard but not impossible), Canada and the UK have had such a deep relationship which can be framed as romantic in a sense. Also fills the troup of raising a kid who's not yours he becomes a huge muscle hunk fall in love

I just think they'd be real soft on each other T_T But lol yes they really do play into that good ol' romcom plot of 'it was me you were looking for all along!' - unrequited requited crushes, anxiety, feelings of inadequacy... all that good angst.

Best (naughty naughty) MapleTea fic is Enchanted by ZaliaChimera. Most of their works has been orphaned (purged Livejournal whyyyyyy) but most are still up on Ao3 thank goodness! Matt is presented with a plain mirror metaphor and Arthur is sickeningly sweet. WeWereNotTheFirst also writes them exceptionally well if you are looking for a Matt and Arthur who have the capacity to be exceptionally awful to each other.

[koamojis]

from sketchbook

[luciality]

maddie and alice are so hipster girls 2012 tumblr style

superwholock and indie rock and flannel and hot tea and knitting matching beanies

they watch sherlock on netflix curled up in maddies bed with the fairy lights on the wall and a box of pizza between them (bc pizza is bae) (ironically)

[aimseytv]

ello aimsey, have you seen the new animatic by mapletea that philza commissioned?

bc I think youd really like it

hey so

[something-maple]